Moving On
by mrspencil
Summary: John Watson leaves Baker Street one year after "The Reichenbach Fall". Someone is watching him. A ninth and final chapter dedicated to medcat, Ennui Enigma, Jack, JAL and MLC.
1. Moving On 1

_a/n: John Watson leaves Baker Street one year after "The Reichenbach Fall"._

_Dedicated to medcat, Ennui Enigma, Jack, JAL and MLC. Thank you._

_I do not own Sherlock and companions. 221B format devised by KCS_

* * *

**Moving On**

* * *

He stepped through the doorway,

That's all that it took;

A silent farewell,

In one lingering look.

Not at all sentimental,

No heart worn on sleeve;

And yet, quite reluctant

To turn round and leave.

Those objects, familiar,

Unmoved since he'd left;

Lost and abandoned;

A room, now bereft.

~0~

A place for each item;

Not one rearranged.

Nothing seemed altered

Yet all things had changed.

A smile traced in bullets,

A pale grinning skull,

An old leather couch,

Far too still; too peaceful.

A scarf draped precisely where

It was last dropped.

The room marked the moment when

Everything stopped.

~0~

He almost heard footsteps

Which paced to and fro;

The greatest detective, with brain

In full flow.

Heard protests of boredom,

A violin play;

The clink of an ever replenished

Tea tray.

Glimpsed coat tails, each dark and

Exuberant swirl;

A figure sprawled out on the couch;

A black curl.

~0~

The year had passed swiftly,

Yet lasted so long.

Not at all sentimental?

He may have been wrong.

There were patients to tend to,

Appointments to keep;

Old soldiers and war tempered doctors

Don't weep.

A small flat on Baker Street;

Time to move on;

The reason he'd called it his home

Had long gone.

~0~

As echoes and thoughts from the past

Intertwined;

He left,

Leaving what he most treasured

Behind.

~0~


	2. Moving On 2

_a/n: One year after "The Reichenbach Fall", John Watson is moving out of Baker Street._

_Sherlock and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Moving On 2**

* * *

He stopped at the doorway,

Kit bag in his hand;

His brand new apartment;

So spacious,

So grand.

With everything matching

And perfect;

Pristine.

Not even one step,

Let alone seventeen.

~0~

Expanses of pastel-toned,

Silk-painted wall;

No bullet-marked,

Spray painted faces

At all.

A neat,

Ready furnished,

Desirable place;

A flawless,

And tasteful

Anonymous,

Space.

His luggage looked

Scruffy,

Outdated,

Plain wrong;

Such battered

Possessions

Just did not

Belong.

~0~

He gazed at the sofa,

(A tasteful striped cream)

And brushed back a

Stray strand of hair;

Just a dream?

It felt quite unreal

To have moved out at last,

To have slowly begun

To let go of the past.

~0~

He'd left all their shared

Bits and pieces behind;

Though each single item

Was seared on his mind.

New dwelling;

New work place;

New outlook;

New start.

The logic was clear

In his head,

Not his heart.

~0~

An uneven tread

On the carpeted floor;

One thing,

Long discarded,

In full use

Once more.

In his left hand,

His bag;

In his right;

His old cane.

John,

Without Sherlock,

Was limping

Again.

~0~


	3. Moving On 3

_a/n: One year after "The Reichenbach Fall", John Watson moves out of Baker Street._

_His landlady remains behind._

_Sherlock and friends do not belong to me._

* * *

**Moving On 3**

* * *

A single pot

Of fresh-brewed tea;

Milk added

Absent-mindedly.

Her tea cup raised,

A careless sip;

A twinge,

An ever-creaking hip.

A quiet kitchen;

Peace and calm.

No sudden noise,

No loud alarm.

~0~

No hurried footsteps

Up the stairs,

No reckless thief

Caught unawares,

No hopeful client

At the door;

No nights of drama

Any more.

No random raids

For hidden drugs;

No blackmailers,

No whores,

No thugs.

~0~

A peaceful life,

A gentler pace;

No biscuits hoarded

"Just in case".

A well-used tea tray

Put aside.

Her daily joy,

Though long denied.

A strange

And melancholy year;

The end of all

She'd held so dear.

~0~

Their flat;

Unoccupied,

Preserved.

Her grief

For what was lost

Observed.

His kit bag

And his cane

Now gone;

Her final tenant

Moving on.

~0~

She missed the chaos

Mess and noise.

And,

Most of all,

She missed

Her boys.

~0~


	4. Moving On 4

_a/n; One year after "The Reichenbach Fall", John Watson moves out of Baker Street._

_ For Inspector Lestrade, work continues..._

_Sherlock and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Moving On 4**

* * *

A mug of strong coffee,

His fifth of the day;

The thud of a headache

Determined to stay;

A paperwork mountain

Which grew as he stared;

Crime files to be studied

Reports to be shared.

The day to day

Dull,

Time consuming routine

Which followed each case he took on,

Each crime scene.

Ten hours since the start of his shift,

All desk bound.

He stretched, felt his muscles protest,

His head pound.

~0~

"I'm bored", were the words which were

Running around in his head;

He paused as he thought of another

Who spoke them instead.

A deeper pitched tone;

An insistent, familiar refrain;

That voice...he'd give all that it took

Just to hear it again.

To stand at the scene of a murder,

Assailant unknown,

And reach that unique expertise

At the end of a phone.

To gamely defend the strange quirks

Of his singular friend;

And give him the space to persist

With a task to the end.

~0~

One swirl of that coat

Guaranteed that the atmosphere changed,

As insults and barbed observations

Were freely exchanged.

Consulting detective ahead

The good doctor behind;

And a privileged chance to inspire

That impossible mind...

~0~

As he thought of their cases together,

He almost half-smiled;

His coffee was cold and untouched,

His last papers unfiled.

He blinked,

And returned to his work;

Leaving Sherlock and John.

~0~

Detective Inspector Lestrade,

Trying hard to move on.

~0~


	5. Moving On 5

_a/n: One year after "The Reichenbach Fall", and John Watson is leaving Baker Street._

_What about Molly Hooper?_

_Sherlock and friends do not belong to me._

* * *

**Moving On 5**

* * *

The chill of the tile

Brought her peace

As she rested her head;

Quite at home

With the tables of steel,

The remains of the dead.

The rate of her breathing

Slowed down

To a steadier pace;

She began to relax

In this calm

And familiar place.

~0~

She scolded herself;

Her reaction could ruin it all,

She hadn't considered

That Doctor John Watson

Might call.

She wasn't prepared

For his cane,

For the catch in his voice;

And cursed, as she'd cursed many times,

Her impossible choice.

~0~

She'd distanced herself

From his friends,

Their unbearable grief.

She'd mourned,

Mourned alone,

With her thoughts;

No escape,

No relief.

~0~

She'd known

Her involvement

Would come

At a terrible cost;

And she knew she would

Never get back

Everything

She had lost.

And yet, if he asked her again

She'd agree in a trice;

The means to an end

Which was worth

Such a very high price.

~0~

She surveyed her surroundings,

Recalled their last meeting,

And wept;

For the lipstick she no longer wore,

And the secrets she kept.

~0~


	6. Moving On 6

_a/n: One year after "The Reichenbach Fall" and John Watson is moving out of Baker Street._

_Mycroft retreats to his club._

_Sherlock and companions do not belong to me._

* * *

**Moving On 6**

* * *

A flickering flame

And the glow of red wine

In a glass.

His club;

A last haven

Of silence, decorum and class.

A retreat from

The daily demands

Of the Great and the Good;

His role at the Government's heart

Very few understood.

~0~

A newspaper,

Folded just so,

Lay unopened, unread.

He gazed at the flames,

Lost in thought

For a moment instead.

It was hard to believe

That a year and a day

Had now passed;

And to think

That his world

Had been turned upside down

Quite so fast.

He had buried himself

In his work,

In affairs of the land,

But he could not forget

A high roof top;

A final brave stand.

~0~

He should never

Have been so obsessed

With achieving his goal;

Quite blind to the thirst for revenge

In a madman's

Dark soul.

He'd been played

With a lure

On a dangerous line

All along;

And had utterly failed to observe

That his actions were wrong.

~0~

He hadn't considered

At all

That a trap might be laid;

His words had a very high price,

And his brother had paid.

~0~

That larger than life

Irreplaceable

Figure had gone;

And it seemed

An impossible task

To begin to move on.

~0~

He longed for the guilt,

The regret,

And the grieving

To stop,

As he drained

His large glass of fine wine

To the very last drop.

~0~


	7. Moving On 7

_a/n: One year after "The Reichenbach Fall", John Watson is leaving Baker Street._

_Sergeant Sally Donovan attends a crime scene._

_Thanks to thedragonaunt for help and encouragement._

_Sherlock and friends do not belong to me._

* * *

**Moving On 7**

* * *

She had called him a freak,

She'd resented his presence,

She had seen what Inspector Lestrade

Could not see.

She had not been afraid

To express her opinion;

She was never the type

Who would meekly agree.

She had known he had brains,

An unfathomable talent,

But at crime scenes

He'd always seemed

So out of place.

She had trusted her boss

But she'd doubted his easy

Reliance on Sherlock

In every damned case.

~0~

Her face still glowed hot

At his thoughtless deductions;

His casual assessment

Had cut to the quick.

His passionless comments

On intimate matters

Were a set of clues solved,

Just a mean circus trick.

~0~

It was part of her job

To consider all options;

To explore every reason

Behind a girl's scream.

She was right to have started

To link facts together;

To check out an erstwhile

Unthinkable theme.

She did not want revenge

For his throwaway insults;

She was doing her duty

As anyone would.

There was no satisfaction

In seeing him hunted.

No man could get under her skin,

Like he could.

~0~

And yet, she'd been wrong;

She had misread the signals,

Ignored the true villain,

Played into his hand.

In truth, her resentment

Had tangled her motives;

Informed her suspicions,

Unseen and unplanned.

~0~

The freak had been right

About Jim Moriarty;

(And correct about Anderson's character, too.)

A year was too short

To reflect on her actions;

To wish for the chance

To unsay and undo.

~0~

The crime tape surrounded

The victim's prone body;

She studied the fatal red wound

At the throat,

And longed for the spark

Of a barbed conversation,

An arrogant gesture,

A swirling black coat.

~0~

But the chance to have told him

All this

Was long gone;

She must try

To shake free from the past

And move on.

~0~


	8. Moving On 8

_a/n: One year since "The Reichenbach Fall" and John Watson is leaving Baker Street._

_Anderson is bemused at the anniversary._

_Sherlock and friends do not belong to me._

_Thanks to thedragonaunt for help and encouragement. _

* * *

**Moving On 8**

* * *

A year had passed

So quickly

Since that fatal

Roof top fall.

He could not understand

Why colleagues

Noticed it at all.

Lestrade had put aside

His growing paperwork

To speak;

And even Sally

Paused to mourn

That puzzle-solving freak.

That interfering

Psychopathic thorn

Had pricked his side;

His own relief

At losing that

Had never been denied.

~0~

He, all too well, remembered

The embarrassment

And shame

Of words which had

Diminished him;

A freak's

Malicious game.

His brief affair,

His competence,

Demands to face the wall;

No back up

From his boss,

In fact,

No sympathy at all.

~0~

It wasn't that he'd wished

That irritating man

Was dead;

Enough,

If he had simply

Stayed away from him

Instead.

His death

Had reinforced

His prime position;

Most unfair,

That somehow

Fate and circumstance

Meant Sherlock

Was still there.

~0~

He sighed,

And realised

That thorn

Had not completely gone.

It wasn't quite so easy

To forget him

And move on.

~0~


	9. Moving On 9

_a/n: One year after "The Reichenbach Fall" and John Watson is moving out of Baker Street._

_Someone is watching him..._

_Sherlock and friends do not belong to me_

* * *

**Moving On 9**

* * *

Standing in the shadows

Of an old and empty house,

Staring at a window,

Curtains closed;

Hoping for a glimpse

Of a familiar, well-loved face;

Risking all,

On edge,

Alert,

Exposed.

Consequences fatal

If his presence is observed;

Corpses cannot rise,

Nor ghosts appear.

Logic would dictate

That he should not

Approach this place;

Sentiment decrees

He's standing here.

~0~

Months of part-existence;

Always restless,

Never still;

Noting every sight

And every sound.

Life lived on the margins,

Seeking refuge where he can;

Hidden,

Haunted,

Hunted;

Gone to ground.

Commonplace restrictions

Don't affect him

Anymore;

Rules and regulations

Don't apply;

Dead

Detective walking

Though the London streets

At night;

All that mattered once,

He lets pass by.

~0~

A line of light appearing,

From the house across the street,

Widens;

Someone's opening the door.

First time since he saw him

At the graveside,

Lost in grief,

He sees his closest,

Dearest friend

Once more.

Kit bag over shoulder

And a final backward glance;

Jacket, jumper, jeans, fair hair and...

Cane.

Shock then comprehension

Briefly touch the watcher's face;

Thought he'd never see it used

Again.

~0~

Limping,

Proud,

Ex-soldier,

Lines so deep

Around his eyes,

Starts to hail a taxi,

Stops and turns.

Something has disturbed him

In the waning evening light;

Skin begins to prickle,

Instinct burns.

He stares across

The traffic

Where the deepest

Shadows meet;

Hope begins to fan

A gentle flame.

He wonders at his folly

As he runs across the road,

Calling out his lost

Companion's name.

~0~

He reaches empty shadows,

No-one waiting,

Nothing found;

A trick of light and movement,

Hope has gone.

He hails a passing cab,

Ignores a vagrant

In the street...

Sherlock Holmes,

Once more,

Is moving on.

~0~


End file.
